


Ascension of the Clown

by breetorrez



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batman: The Killing Joke, Comedy, Gen, Joker - Freeform, The Joker - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7300795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breetorrez/pseuds/breetorrez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very different insight on the infamous Clown Prince of Crime. Portrayed in his youthful years following the "Batman: Arkham Origins" timeline, but with an original direction. The Joker has risen to power in such a short amount of time. He has a secret and everyone is dying to know what it is. Is he really just as crazy as everyone says?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rosebud

The freshly cut grass was unusually potent this morning. Ren the gardener was a botanist, not much of a fan of pesticides; however, when one comes across a job on Zaigslist that pays well over $4,000 a month to keep up the appearance on an estate, you'd grow quite curious as well. This role of "gardener" did however have a few mentionable job requirements:

_Must have a bachelor's degree in Botany because PLANTS_

_Very financially unstable_

_Good with giant scissors_

_Sense of humor recommended_

Ren the gardener was sitting comfortably by the rose bed pruning some of the most thorniest flowers he's seen in a while. The small circular glass table next to him began to vibrate softly. He was just in the middle of snipping when the roars of several large SUVs could be heard approaching the gates across the vast lawn.

"Shit."

Ren grimaced as the crimson liquid quickly ran down his finger and dripped down onto a few shiny green blades of grass.

The fresh cut on his finger didn't stop him from performing his duties, though he did pause for a moment to take a swig of a bright yellow drink with a tiny umbrella that curiously resembled the larger one shading his body from the sun. Ren had finally looked up only to see the black SUVs heading behind the large mansion and out of view.

The mansion was a fairly extensive domicile with very little windows. It's Gothic architecture glowed as the sun beamed down on the towering pure white structure. It's exquisitely white craft shown especially bright against the black trimming that ran along the manor. Looking up at the towering haven were neatly placed flowers of all different shades with absolutely no weeds in sight. The acres of healthy green grass that surrounded the residence, apart from the cobble-stoned driveways, gave a refreshing appeal to it's already pleasing aesthetics.

Just beyond the mansion's front lawn was an extensive driveway that curved around to the rear end of the manor which was out of view all around as it was surrounded by tall ferns and pines. Beyond the greenery, however, were two very large garages. In front of them were four parked SUVs that were now vacant.

The gentle breeze gave the estate a peaceful murmur as the trees rustled softly in the distance. Ren the gardener was listening soundly to the peaceful noises as he was now tending to his wounded finger. The now empty glass sat idle as the reflection of Ren wrapping a gauze around his wounded finger shown through perfectly. He counted down quietly to himself as each layer covered his finger.

"...4... 3-"

The peaceful noises of the rustling nature was immediately drawn out by the sounds of 7 very deafening gunshots.

"...2... 1."

Ren the gardener smiled, looking down pleasingly at his now bandaged finger. Whistling peacefully, he got up from his favorite chair beneath the umbrella that matched the tiny one now laying next to his empty glass, and walked off to tend to his other duties.

The sounds of the gunshots left a faint ringing that lingered around from the garages. That was until the ringing disappeared as the sound of a curious noise crept up from the same direction.

Very faintly, a deep chuckle danced in the air as it grew louder and crescendoed into a high-pitched cackle just as loud as the gunshots themselves.


	2. Calling Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will he make the deal? You'll just have to find out.

It was 11 p.m. on this starry evening and the mansion was a tad empty apart from the in-curiously content gardener, two happy chefs who always had meals prepared and an aging maid who never asked questions. The vacancy however did not last for long as the rumble of the large SUVs routinely made their way into the rear of the estate.

The automated garage outside opened and a little chime went off in the kitchen. Scurrying, the two chefs hurried to their places to prepare dishes. The mansion was quiet until the doors to the garage swung open and the sounds of men chattering and boots hitting the ground filled the very large room. The men were heading to this room that looked to hold wonders of entertainment. Inside was a mounted 80" flat screen, a surround sound system that was mounted to the ceiling, six game consoles behind a glass case, a leather couch that wrapped around half of the very large room, a pool table, and a few tall metal tables with matching bar stools. Just to the left of the large room was the dining hall which was also connected to the kitchen.

There were 23 men in total in the living room who were all nonchalantly making themselves at home. They were all different in height, but nonetheless equally heavily-built. Their dark grungy clothing made them look slightly out of place compared to the very neat manor.  
In the living room, 6 men sat at the metal tables playing dominoes or cards, a couple others seemed to continue a game of pool that was left idle before they returned, and the rest were either sitting on the couch playing a game or preparing to clean their rifles.  
One man in particular named Marko was leaning on the wall next to the pool table watching the game when he grew curious about something.  
After a few minutes of pondering to himself, he spoke aloud.

"Ey, did you guys see where boss went? I wanna know if I can leave to do something."

One of the men playing pool replied without looking up,  
"Ask him to leave? Yeah good luck with that."  
He paused for a moment to locate the nearest striped ball and took his shot. Marko stayed quiet and stared blindly at the 8 ball.

"Did you see what he did before we left?" added the man.

Marko thought to himself for a moment and argued, "Well isn't he always like that? C'mon man, I just need to go see my ma. She's not doing too good and we just got paid so-"

"Hey hey I'm just sayin'," The man innocently brought his hands to his chest while holding the pool stick and added, "I wouldn't ask him nothin' right now. You don't even know if we're done yet man. We're on call all the time now, it ain't like last year. Things changed real quick real fast and seeing how it is, boss must be real busy too."

Defeated, Marko looked away and stared at the TV. The sounds of the first-person shooter echoed in his mind and reminded him of what he was told just moments ago.  
"Did you see what he did before we left?"

\---

Marko shifted his weight uneasily. He stared at the bewildered plump man a yard away from him, but his mind was elsewhere. The man to Marko's right leaned in a bit close and asked almost silently through his mask, "Hey, do you think the dude's got men posted 'round here?"  
The question pulled Marko back to earth and he adjusted his mask then answered quietly, "Uh, probably. A guy dressed like that has gotta be covered. We just have to be ready like always."

The musty warehouse was dark inside apart from the jagged hole in the ceiling that allowed the glow from the night sky to permeate through. It shown like a spot light upon a plump man tethered to a metal chair. He was fidgeting and heavily breathing until he noticed a pair of shiny black oxfords slowly appear in front of his feet.

"Let me go and you'll get your end of the cut! I swear it!" begged the plump man nervously.

"Hmm... _Funny_ how business can work itself out, ey chipper?" inquired a cold voice sarcastically.

The face on the plump man turned bright pink and he began to breath heavily once again. Suddenly, a piercing cackle bounced off the walls of the warehouse and startled the pink-faced man. After a few seconds, the cackling calmed to an eerie low chortle and the black oxfords backed out of view. All that could be heard were the clicking of footsteps on the cold cement floor. The man in the chair looked around frantically and cried out, "Wait, wait, I'll give you my end of the cut too! A-and a few of my guys, trained marksmen! Deal?!"

"And how will you make this happen my dear Franky?" replied the cold voice from the shadows.

"I-I'll make a call! I just need to make a call and it's all yours!"  
The plump man named Franky looked around anxiously.

A few minutes passed, the icy voice returned to ask, "Phone?"

"L-Left pocket!" Franky quickly replied.

A dark gloved hand with silver studded knuckles appeared from the side of the pink man and reached its way into his pocket.

"You know," said the shadowed figure whilst digging for the phone, "I'd normally take you out first, but we're in a bit of a rush."

Franky, still pink in the face, gulped as the gloved hand quickly withdrew the phone from his pocket.

"Uh j-just hold down the side button on the left and it'll speed dial!"

A few moments of silence passed and then a small beeping noise sounded off from the phone.

"I'm guessing that button wasn't a speed dial?" inquired the shadowed figure calmly.

"You son of a bitch! You're nothing! Thinking you could just climb to the top with no hard work just because you're young! You're a dead man!" screeched Franky.

The shadowed figure chuckled and promptly threw the phone against the wall; scattering the remains in the darkness. After a few moments of silence, the cold voice returned briefly.  
"Fellas."

Immediately, sounds of clicking and shifting echoed from the darkness. Franky began to breathe heavily as he heard a set of footsteps approaching him from behind his seat. Suddenly, Franky was dragged out of view from his spotlight; the metal chair loudly scrapping the cement along the way. The shadowed figure effortlessly dragged him to the corner of the warehouse next to the armed men lined against the wall. In the next moment, the double doors of the warehouse slammed open and men with rifles piled in. The whole warehouse was abruptly filled with light and deafening gunfire. The noises ceased only after a few long minutes, and the musty air began to fill with smoke. The warehouse was now dimly lit from the breach along with the new holes in the walls created by the gunfire. All 23 of the men still lined against the wall remained unharmed and idle.

With widen eyes, Franky remained still in his chair. He was frozen at the sight of his men laying lifelessly in front of the breach.

"I'm going to have to teach someone a lesson or two about lying..." the chilled voice taunted.

The shadowed figure suddenly came into view from behind him. He was a 6 foot man, lean but slender, and his features could vaguely be made out in the still smoky and dim warehouse. Franky looked up at the tall man and his eyes grew wider by each second.

"Oh, don't look at me like that! You'll make me blush!" snickered the tall man playfully.

His voice startled Franky as it was surprisingly no longer the icy voice from earlier. The man swung around Franky and effortlessly yanked him forward to the center of the warehouse once again.

"Lesson one," said the man sternly, "How to permanently rid yourself of lying."  
The tall man pulled out a shiny pocket knife from his trousers and shouted, "Open up, Franky!"

Franky shook his head frantically and pleaded, "No, no, please, I have a daughter and two-"

"And I have a botanist who mows my pretty lawns! Franky, Franky, Franky... I don't care about your daughters. I care about you!" the tall man sighed to himself and immediately grabbed Franky's face.

"'Gotta do everything myself, don't I?" growled the man to himself.

He was now prying Franky's mouth open with his gloved hands and grabbed a hold of his tongue with his left index finger and thumb. His right hand flung the shiny pocket knife open and Franky began to squirm hysterically beneath him.

"Agh, you're making this much more difficult than it has to be!" grunted the tall man who then planted his left foot on the thigh of the squirming man beneath him.  
Once he secured his grip, the tall man promptly begun slicing away at the tongue between his fingers. Blood gushed from Franky's mouth and he began to gag.

"Ah, there we go! See, that wasn't too bad?" laughed the tall man who abruptly tossed the lifeless meat onto the floor with a _splat_.

"What? Why do you look so sad? Oh no, okay, lesson two!!"

The man grabbed Franky's face once again and placed his knife at the corner of his already crimson mouth. "Say cheese!!" yelled the tall man and the warehouse was promptly filled with hoarse cackling and faint grunts.

The tall man then backed away from Franky, who was now staring blindly at the cement beneath him. The corners of his mouth were hacked open to the middle of his cheeks and his jaw remained open involuntarily. The tall man began to pace and suddenly threw his knife to the wall where it landed next to the remains of the scattered phone.

"I don't think you've learned your lesson yet old man," returned the chilling voice from earlier.

The men standing by the wall all watched calmly as they waited for their commandant to finish his business. Marko had his eyes fixed on the piece of meat lying on the floor. He shifted his weight again uneasily and looked back at the tall man who was now hastily walking back up to the unfortunate person in the chair.

Without a word, the man grabbed Franky's bottom jaw with his right hand and grabbed his upper palate with his left and tore away at the flesh until a cracking noise was heard from beneath him. He back away once again and took a deck of cards out from his trench coat; staining it with his bloodied hands.

He chucked the cards at the still man in the chair, and muttered coldly to himself,  
"No deal."

The man faced away from the men along the wall and walked right under the glowing opening in the ceiling. The man's hair appeared to be dark green in the glow and strands of hair were sticking out messily from all directions. He rose his still bloodied hands to his head and smoothed his hair back to it's original place; leaving his green hair stained with red.

He signaled his men and began to make his way out of the breach. Marko followed along with the rest of his cohorts and slowed as he passed by the lifeless man in the chair. What was once a pink faced man, was now a crimson jumble of flesh. His lower jaw dangled from his throat and the rest were facing the opposite direction. The passing men all slowed to look at their boss's masterpiece as well. Marko looked down and saw all the scattered cards on the floor that read **_JOKER_** _,_ with different depictions of jesters on each of them.

\---

"Hey, you gonna eat?" asked a voice from behind.

Marko shook his head as if he was shaking out his previous recollection.

"Oh uh, yeah yeah!" he reassured, still a bit uneasy from what he witnessed earlier.

_Man things really aren't like last year._


	3. Red Door

  
As the sun began to rise, Mrs. Marbles made her way from the kitchen to the entertainment room and began her early morning rounds. She sighed to herself and smiled as she looked past all the snoozing men in the large room. Mrs. Marbles was the manor's maid and she was known as the most loyal of all. She was in her mid-60s and had long grey hair that was always kept in a neat bun. Despite being widowed, she was a very cheerful woman and always appreciated the company of men.

She weaved her way through the peacefully snoring men, picking up empty soda cans and food wrappers along the way. After picking up the rest of the entertainment room, Mrs. Marbles grabbed her keys and unlocked a tall door that lead to a ginormous dark oak staircase. After taking one step, she noticed a black oxford shoe laying on it's side upon the third step. She smiled and went to pick it up when she noticed the other sitting on the seventh step.

"Long night huh?" she said to herself quietly, still smiling.

When she got to the top of the stairs, she already had a pair of black oxfords and a pair of matching socks in her arms. She made a left and came across another door with a lock. She opened it and inside was a long hallway with another large door at the end. When she finally arrived to the end of the hallway, she sat down the items she had picked up and fumbled for a different set of keys. Once she found them, she unlocked the door and cautiously opened it to see more items of clothing scattered across the floor.

This room was rather large and not an ounce of sunlight seeped through the tall curtains. Mrs. Marbles, however, knew her way perfectly and stepped over all the clothes to open a part of the curtain to let a bit of morning light in. As soon as part of the curtain opened, the room revealed itself to be a master bedroom with exquisitely detailed dark oak furniture, Victorian styled sofas, another door to the far left, and an incredible California king bed with a dark canopy. Mrs. Marbles turned to pick up the nearest article of clothing when she noticed that they all had reddish-brown stains. She proceeded to pick up the stained pale-orange dress shirt and smacked her lips.

"This was my favorite blouse too," she muttered to herself, "that's going to be tough to get out. Ah well."

Mrs. Marbles was fully aware of what "business" her employer was involved in. Her deceased husband was a mobster in Gotham for a very long time and she longed to be around the business ever since his downfall due to mental health issues. She reminisced the days where picking up stained clothes use to be her husband's.  
Mrs. Marbles smiled to herself once again and placed the pile of clothing next to the door. The last piece was lying next to the bed. She walked over and picked up a heavy leather trench coat that was dark purple and heavily stained with blood.   
She raised her eyebrows and whispered, "Unfortunate fellow."

"Mmn..." replied a faint sleepy voice from the bed.

Mrs. Marbles placed the coat around her arm and peeped into the dark canopy. Inside were piles of pillows and blankets, and just at the corner was a mound of messy dark green and red stained hair. The man's face appeared to be buried into the pillows.

"Would you like me to fetch you anything, sir?" she asked politely.

After a minute of silence, the man poked his left index finger out, moved it side to side and said, "Nm nm."

Mrs. Marbles nodded with a smile and closed the canopy. She then proceeded to finish up her early morning duties with a smile as usual.

It wasn't long before noon arrived and the mansion walls were filled with chatter and a hint of something else.

"What the hell is that noise?" mumbled one of the beefy guys with a biscuit in his mouth.

Mrs. Marbles, who happened to pass by the dining room, answered "Why, it's music of course!"

The beefy man gave her a puzzled expression and another guy across the table added, "Since when does boss listen to music?"

"That ain't even music anyway, they're just screamin'!" replied another.

Suddenly, the music became louder and almost everyone but Mrs. Marbles looked around curiously.

Mrs. Marbles now had to yell to be heard over the music.

"I know! Isn't it wonderful!?"

The men at the dining room table all looked at each other and shrugged.   
One of the beefy men smirked and said, "Maybe she's just as loony as he is!"

After about a few hours, the SUVs in the back rumbled to life and the mansion was left quiet once again. With only a feather duster in hand, Mrs. Marbles had just made it to the top of the grand staircase when she stopped to check her watch. After checking it, she looked around and said to herself, "Alrighty, boys are gone, Ren is out and the Chefs are on break. The coast is clear."

She bent down to push in a small section of the brown trim near the ground. It slid back and the wall made a faint clicking sound. She looked around at her surroundings once again and cautiously pushed in what was once a wall. Inside this opening lead to a very narrow but tall hallway. At the end of this hallway was a red door with a lock that Mrs. Marbles had the keys to. She pulled out her set of different keys and grabbed a curious bronze looking one. With this key, she opened the door to a room that automatically lit up upon her entrance. This room was a bit lengthy in size, but had a low ceiling. It was furnished with a black leather tufted sofa, an arched floor lamp, a dark oak desk and shelves on every wall that were filled top to bottom with books. She closed the door behind her and began dusting the surfaces of the room.

"He's been spending much more time in here than usual..." the maid said to herself quietly.

She was about to walk over to dust the next bookshelf when her foot stepped against something unleveled with the floor. She looked down and picked up a book that read _Corners of the Mind: A Guide To Profound Trickery_.

"Busy indeed."


End file.
